


Found in a Field

by Kivea



Series: Stenny Week [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Angst, M/M, Oblivious, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Stan's the mom friend this time, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Tegridy Farms, Underage Drinking, developing feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivea/pseuds/Kivea
Summary: It was cold. Probably.It looked cold. It looked like the kind of weather that you really needed a thick jacket for. But he was so warm. So, unbelievably warm. That may have been the alcohol though.
Relationships: Stan Marsh & Kenny McCormick, Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick
Series: Stenny Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977991
Comments: 11
Kudos: 29





	Found in a Field

It was cold. Probably. 

It looked cold. It looked like the kind of weather that you really needed a thick jacket for. Kenny had a thick jacket, hanging from his shoulders with the gloves on his hands stopping it totally falling off, but his hood was long forgotten and his zipper half way down his torso, allowing the air to bring some well needed freshness to his warm face. 

He was so warm. So, unbelievably warm. That may have been the alcohol though. 

He’d drank a bit. A lot. More than he was used to. It wasn’t like he was some sober party-pooper like Wendy, not touching a drop of the stuff for fear of making a fool of themselves. But he didn’t like to drink in excess. Someone had to be the responsible adult in his house and it sure as hell wasn’t his parents. 

But this time Karen had been staying at Tricia’s house for some big, full weekend sleepover, and Kevin was out of town on some trucker job that would keep him gone for a few days, and his parents suggested in not so many words that he should find something to do with his weekend. 

So, he’d stolen a bottle of wine from the cupboard and left. 

Somewhere between his first quarter and his first half, he had the bright idea that if he was going to be out all night, he might as well get high. What better way to pass the time than with something to smoke and somewhere to plonk his ass for the night until he freezes to death on the curb side and respawns the next day? 

If he was going to get some Tegridy, he also got to see one of his _best friends_. He’d never turn down an opportunity to spend time with one of his _best friends_. 

Or, well, maybe he would, if he was sober. But he wasn’t sober. Which meant he wouldn’t. Not that he didn’t like spending time with him, because he did. 

What? 

Drugs. Yeah. 

He began the long walk to the Colorado farm, singing to himself as he walked along the road that lead out to the countryside, bottle in his hand. The more he drank, the more time seemed to pass in a funny manner, a haze filling his every sense as the smooth air continued to keep him cool. 

At one point, he lost his jacket. He found it again, though. 

He wore it like a cape, hood over his head and arms swinging free behind him as he danced through the night. It was a nice night. A temperate night. 

The stars shone overhead, twinkling away in the sky as he enjoyed watching the moon and drinking more of his wine. He wasn’t sure how much he had left; it felt like such an endless pit. He hoped he never ran out. He hoped it was a bottomless barrel. 

He hoped he froze here, lying on the ground, surrounded by snow, watching his breath circle up towards the sky as if it was his very soul leaving his body. 

Maybe one day, he would leave his body for good. 

“Hey! What’re you doing on our field?!” 

Maybe one day, he would breathe his last breath and that was it. He’d never come back. 

“Hey! Are you-?! Wait, Kenny, is that you?!” 

Maybe one, day he’d know what mortality felt like. 

“Kenny?!” 

He startled as the stars and moon were suddenly blocked from view, looking up to see blue eyes lined with dark bags hovering above him. 

“Dude, are you alright?!” 

“Wha…?” he didn’t realise how cold he had gotten until there were hands grasping his shoulders, pulling him into a sitting position. When did he stop walking? “Where am I…?” 

“You’re on our farm, you’re – have you been drinking? Wine?” 

He looked over to see the bottle cast to the side, the remains running red trails through the snow. “Shit, dude…it kinda looks like blood.” 

“How much did you drink?” 

He pointed at the bottle. “Not that bit.” 

He began to whine in protest as he was shifted and moved, his legs feeling far too gelatinous to be stood on. 

“No!” he whined out. “Where are you taking me?” 

“To the house, you can’t just stay in the snow all night. You’ll freeze to death.” 

“Hey, maybe that was the goal, and you’re just ruining my whole night.” 

He was dropped to the floor, and the boy who had found him grasped his chin, blue eyes narrowed as the locked with his own and bit out the words: “Don’t be a fucking dick, Kenny.” 

There was a certain intensity to Stan Marsh that no one could quite replicate. 

It didn’t happen often. He was the more apathetic of their friendship circle, with most of the passion and intense moments coming from Kyle or Cartman, one or the other always having something to say. Stan wasn’t quiet like he was, but he didn’t put in as much feeling as the other two did. 

But when he did Kenny found him agreeing compliantly to whatever it was he said. In these moments, Kenny was weak. 

So he allowed the boy who saved him to wrap an arm under his and round his back, pulling him to his feet and drag him stumbling over to the farm vehicle he’d been using to drive round the fields. Kenny remembered once a quiet moment between the two of them as they shared a joint where Stan confessed that at night, he liked to take the tractor out and drive it round the fields, just to keep himself from going crazy in the house. 

Leaning against the boy next to him, who had an arm wrapped around his shoulder to keep his jacket attached to him, he began to understand why Stan enjoyed the ride so much. It was soothing. 

“You better not be falling asleep, asshole.” 

They stumbled into the farm house, pass both doors and crossed the path of Randy Marsh asleep on the couch with the TV on in the background. Kenny’s eyes zoned in on the colourful lights the box was producing, slowing his footsteps as he turned and started walking towards it. 

“Dude, no, we’re going upstairs.” 

“But I wanna-!” 

“Quiet down, would you? You’re gonna wake my dad.” 

The stairs were difficult, Kenny putting his hands on the steps ahead of him to keep himself steady, his jacket missing from his shoulders again. It’d probably turn up eventually. It did last time. 

“Jesus, Ken!” 

He let out a slow giggle as he rocked into the wall, feeling a hand grasp his rear and keep him steady as he stumbled. “You ain’t taking advantage of lil’ ol’-!” 

“If you finish that sentence, you’re sleeping on the stairs.” 

He dutifully allowed his saviour to guide him to the Marsh’s bathroom, leaning into the support offered as time and space seemed to move by him in a slow haze. 

“Here, have some water,” the boy offered as they reached his bathroom and he sat Kenny down on the toilet. 

“I don’t want any.” 

“You’ll be thankful for it in the morning, dude. Trust me.” 

There was that oddly intense gaze again as Stan offered him the glass. 

As Kenny drank, he allowed himself to really acknowledge that this was Stan. This was Stan, dressed in worn, ratty blue jeans and thin grey jacket over some band tee. This was Stan, giving him a look that made Kenny’s insides churn as he held Kenny’s jacket in his arms, and… 

Oh. That’s where his jacket went. 

“I want it,” Kenny murmured. “I’m cold.” 

“Yeah, because you were sprawled out on the field for god knows how long.” 

“I’m _cold,_ Stan,” Kenny’s voice raised an octave. “I want you to-?!” 

“What did I say about keeping it down?!” Stan rushed out as he crowded Kenny and pulled the glass out his hands. “Do you want to wake everyone in this shitty house?” 

Kenny _pouted_. Shamelessly. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” 

The pout morphed into a coy smirk as Kenny asked: “You gonna get me naked, too?” 

Stan rolled his eyes, but Kenny was caught on the way his cheeks were flushed at the comment. He didn’t respond and instead took Kenny’s arm again, guiding him through the hallway. 

Next thing the blonde knew, he was on his back, still dressed, with Stan to his right pulling the blanket over him. 

“I don’t want it,” Kenny whined. “It’s too hot.” 

“It’s too-?!” Stan spluttered, patience giving out as he glared down at Kenny. “You were literally just complaining about being too cold.” 

“I changed my mind! Give me my jacket instead.” 

“No, it’s all wet, you’ll make my bed nasty.” 

“But _Stan_.” 

“I said no. You’re such a brat, you’re a bratty drunk. I’m never going to forget this. I’m never, ever, ever going to forget what a bratty drunk you are.” 

Kenny chuckled, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he took in the sight of one of his _best friends_ with one hand on the quilt and the other hand running through the smooth black locks, musing them till he was left with hair sticking up at all angles. 

He had a nice jawline. Kenny thought about telling him. What came out was something different.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” 

Stan stopped, staring down at him with wide blue eyes that Kenny thought he might get lost in if he let himself. “Dude, you’re drunk.” 

“I’m serious!” Kenny defended, because it was true. “You are, really. And you’re so nice, looking after me. I dunno what I’d do without you.” 

“What were you even doing?” Stan asked, settling on the bed and finally giving up on trying to wrangle the blanket over him. “You’re miles out of town, you must’ve walked for ages.” 

“I dunno, I thought, man, y’know what I want right now? Some nice, good ol’ Tegridy. And then I thought, wow! I could see Stan! And I did!” 

“You did.” 

“Here you are!” 

“Here I am.” 

Kenny felt his heart deflate. “But you don’t look happy to see me.” 

Stan faltered. “No, it’s not like I’m not happy to see you, I’m just…worried about you. You could’ve ended up dead in a ditch somewhere, dude!” 

Kenny gave a noncommittal hum. 

“I’m not giving you any drugs.” 

“That’s okay…” Kenny muttered as he continued to look up at his friend. “You’re gonna stay here, right?” 

“If that’s what you want?” 

“Yeah. It is.” 

Stan huffed out through his nose and stood up, but instead of leaving he shook out of his grey jacket. “Alright, shove over, dude. Make room.” 

“Really?!” 

“Yes, really. If it’ll get you to go to sleep, I’ll do anything.” 

“Will you-?!” 

“Never mind. I take it back. Not anything.” 

Kenny grinned up as Stan got comfortable next to him, pulling the blanket over them both. “You were drivin’ a tractor.” 

“Yeah, I was.” 

“That’s pretty cool, dude.” 

“It’s not. I hate this farm.” 

“Nah, you hate your dad. And you hate living outta town. But I don’t think you hate the farm.” 

Stan didn’t have a response for that. Instead he turned his crystal blue eyes to Kenny instead of the ceiling. “Seriously, why aren’t you at home?” 

“Got kicked out,” Kenny responded as non-pulsed as he could. “Karen’s at Tucker’s, Kevin’s out on a job. Parents wanted the house. Only one kid left,” he raised a finger to the sky before pointing to himself. “Me.” 

“That sucks.” 

He shrugged. 

“What about the wine?” 

“I got it from their stash,” he admitted with a wicked grin. “Figured it’d keep me warm.” 

Stan smirked. “Serves them right, yeah?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Future advice though? Wine and weed don’t mix.” 

Kenny rolled onto his side as he looked across at Stan, eyes narrowed with a smile on his face. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” 

“I am.” 

The teasing look on his face began to fade. The admission was a sobering one, and it must’ve shown on his face as Stan turned his eyes away. 

“It’s…there’s not much to do out in the middle of nowhere.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“Drinking that wine.” 

Stan snorted with a raised brow and a tense smile. “You don’t need to apologise for that, dude. We all drink sometimes.” 

“Yeah, but not like you.” 

Shock crossed the boy’s face, and his jaw clenched. 

“Kyle’s talk about it before,” Kenny admitted, voice dropping to a whisper. “It wasn’t, like…he didn’t go into detail. Just that he was worried, but didn’t really know what to do. I think he regretted telling me.” 

“It’s fine, dude. I…I know he gets worried. But I’m fine. I can look after myself.” 

“It made me worried, too.” 

Stan rolled onto his side to mirror the blonde. “Did it?” 

“’Course. You’re like, one of my best friends. I care about you a lot. I see what drink does to a family, and…” he choked on the words as his vision started to blur. “And I don’t want that to happen to you, man.” 

“Shit, dude, don’t cry!” Stan moved quickly, arms wrapping around Kenny and pulling him close. “I’m sorry. I-I don’t mean to upset you guys. I just…” 

He didn’t finish the sentence. 

“I’ll do better, yeah?” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.” 

Kenny let out a small hiccup, but only buried his face deeper into Stan’s collar. “Can I stay here tonight?” 

Stan let out a short laugh. “Yeah, you can stay here. That’s kind of why I put you to bed.” 

“Thanks. I love you a lot, dude.” 

“I love you too,” Stan returned, voice shaking. “A lot. A whole lot.” 

Kenny fell asleep, not feeling too hot anymore, and not feeling cold. He fell asleep feeling safe wrapped up in someone’s arms, someone he trusted. He’d wake up with a headache and Stan would awkwardly make him breakfast, attempting pre-mixed pancakes and still burning them slightly, but Kenny would eat them and it would be one of the best breakfasts he’d ever had, sat opposite his one of his best friends, only disrupted when Stan’s mom appeared from the back door after being out. 

Stan would offer to drive him home, and he would decline, standing on the doorstep of the Marsh’s farm house, with his heart hammering in his chest opposite a boy with a redness at the tips of his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed this one!! I know it's not super shippy, but I still loved writing it a lot


End file.
